


you're my remedy for pain

by assortedwords



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Rule 63, because yata's blushy-around-girls thing, but only for saru, but you know, even though it'd prolly be v different if saru was a girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1844650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assortedwords/pseuds/assortedwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Misaki,” she tugs on his shirt quietly. Saruhiko thanks whatever (false) deity up there that Kusanagi’s bar stools are wide enough to sit properly on, but the pain’s getting more intense; she wants to curl into a ball and hold herself until it goes away, and a bar stool’s really not the best option for that. But she refuses to leave Misaki alone to HOMRA—he’s her best friend, and the only person worth loving in her life. The only person left, now. And Mikoto-san might wake up while she’s gone, and she’s definitely not having that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're my remedy for pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hyacinthofatalis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyacinthofatalis/gifts).



They’re sitting in the corner of HOMRA’s bar when Saruhiko feels it—the twist of pain in her lower abdomen, a sharp ache that makes its home inside her belly. It feels permanent and settled, weighing on her with heaviness, churning inside.

 _Fucking cramps_ , she curses as she leans herself forward until her ribage rests against the cool bar, curling her body in the age-old remedy to help the pain.

“Misaki,” she tugs on his shirt quietly. Saruhiko thanks whatever (false) deity up there that Kusanagi’s bar stools are wide enough to sit properly on, but the pain’s getting more intense; she wants to curl into a ball and hold herself until it goes away, and a bar stool’s really not the best option for that. But she refuses to leave Misaki alone to HOMRA—he’s her best friend, and the only person worth loving in her life. The only person _left_ , now. And Mikoto-san might wake up while she’s gone, and she’s _definitely_ not having that.

Misaki’s occupied, deep into an energetic conversation with Bandou, and Saruhiko’s irritated, so she tugs on the hem of his shirt more insistently, “ _Misaki_.”

“Hold on,” is the reply she gets, a backhanded and distracted dismissal from Misaki, _her_ Misaki, and anger stirs and rises like steam, filling her with smoke, yet the pain _still_ persists and she’s _really_ pissed off now.

“ _Mi. Sa. Ki._ ” Saruhiko considers calling him _Yata_ , just to see if he’d get the severity of her annoyance, but that’s far too big of a step back. Misaki is her name for him and her name _only_ ; other people have to settle for Yata because he won’t have them calling him Misaki and she likes to think it’s because that’s a privilege reserved for her and she won’t throw it away that easily. She never will.

“What, _really_?” Misaki’s saying, his face flushed with excitement and anticipation and Saruhiko’s _seething_ , the pain is _unbearable_ at this point and she’s starting to get a masochistic urge to just _let go_ and let it envelope her, whatever good that’ll do.

Tatara, ever the observer, notices the twisted expression she probably has on that promises pain that’ll rival her own period cramps, and smiles cheerily from where he’s cleaning glasses. “Yata, I think Fushimi-san wants to talk to you.”

 _Finally_ pulled away from whatever stupid story Bandou’s telling, Misaki turns around and pays attention to her, only _he’s_ annoyed, now. “What, Saruhiko?”

Saruhiko flushes; Misaki’s displeased with her, just a little, but it’s still an awful feeling and her anger evaporates, leaving a congealed mess of petty sadness. Tatara’s looking on, too, and that makes her even more uncomfortable. She’s having a conversation with her best friend, does that merit being stared at? Normally she’d be overjoyed, reel Misaki in until he was completely enraptured, then smile and talk and think, _do you see? Misaki gets this excited when he talks to_ me, but there’s none of that today.

“I have a stomach ache,” she mutters and feels ridiculous all of a sudden.

“Oh. Um. Want me to, walk you home?”

“Please.”

“Okay.” Misaki turns to Bandou and Tatara, “I’ll be right—”

“Sure,” Tatara waves him off. “We’ll save you your seat.” Bandou nods in agreement.

Misaki grins and grabs his skateboard, then follows Saruhiko out the door.

 

“How’d you have a stomach ache? You didn’t even eat anything at the bar,” Misaki looks over at her, tilting his head to see her face and squints as the sun gets into his eyes. Saruhiko’s heart skips a beat and something resembling the word “ _cute_ ” flies through her mind like a reflex. It’s really a normal occurrence at this point.

“So attentive of me, Misaki,” she grins, and Misaki flushes.

“You’re my best friend, of course I’d look out for you!”

Saruhiko feels her heart doing jackknives even though she _knows_ that already; knows Misaki’s got her back and always will, but it still makes her feel warm all over.

“And you didn’t answer my question.” Misaki’s not looking up at her anymore, instead spinning the wheels of his skateboard, and Saruhiko feels a small rush of disappointment.

She hesitates a little before answering, because she’s taught it’s an intimate subject and it’ll make people uncomfortable, but shakes the concerns away. It’s not like she ever cares what other people think about her—but this is Misaki, so she can’t risk anything. But it’s only the truth, a natural process, so it’ll be fine. Besides, Misaki’s cute when he blushes.

“Well—I don’t actually have a stomach ache. My stomach hurts, but it’s not because of something I ate.”

“Then why’s that? You didn’t eat anything anyway.” Misaki experiments with spinning the wheels with his pinky.

“I’m on my period. They’re period cramps,” Saruhiko says bluntly, and Misaki blushes to the tips of his ears.

“O-oh—um—do I have to—get you anything?” 

Saruhiko takes a moment to admire the way Misaki’s face heats up, the red of his face the only type of burn she endorses.

“No.” She pauses, and adds, “You’re all I need.”

Misaki blushes more and turns his face away. “You say such weird things, Saru.”

(They end up cuddling on her bed while Saruhiko kicks his ass at Mario Kart, so now they’re both in pain—Misaki’s pride and her lower abdomen. But Misaki demands a rematch, over and over again, so his wounded pride is restored with fiery determination ((she takes it back, there’s another type of fire she loves to see)) and she’s distracted from her cramps by concentrating on winning Misaki by _miles_.)

**Author's Note:**

> I am quickly posting this before canon completely shoots down my headcannons of Fushimi calling Yata Misaki all along. Or it did already. Either way, forgive me this time.
> 
> I also did not know how to end this but I started this fic with the image of them cuddling while playing video games so there is no way I was going to let that go.
> 
> For my own blushy tsundere, [hyacinthofatalis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hyacinthofatalis/pseuds/hyacinthofatalis). Thanks for putting up with my K ramblings when I'm two years late.


End file.
